


The Truth is Hidden in Plain Sight

by LizBee



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-01
Updated: 2006-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A UNIT officer and a Torchwood agent walk out of a bar."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth is Hidden in Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a sequel to "[The Watchmaker](http://mirrordance.net/doctorwho/watchmaker.html)", but all you need to know there is that Romana aten't dead, that she regenerated into ... well, she's ginger now, and she stayed on Earth to work with UNIT, but did stop to steal some of the Doctor's clothes.
> 
> Also, this fic was written ... oh, about twenty-four hours before _Torchwood_ had its premiere. So any resemblance to canon is entirely coincidental.

"A Torchwood agent and a UNIT officer are being chased through the woods by an angry human-eating alien. The Torchwood agent stops to take off his boots and put on some running shoes. The UNIT guy says, 'What are you doing? You can't outrun an angry human-eating alien.' And the Torchwood agent says--"

"'I only have to outrun _you_'." Romana looked up at the stranger. "It's a very old joke."

"Those are the best kind." He took the empty seat across from her. "I'm Jack Harkness."

"And you work for Torchwood, who are terribly protective of their secrets. Don't they have rules about introducing yourself to strange women in bars?"

"Yeah, but I'm not really a rule-book kind of guy. Anyway, you're not a stranger." He gave her an easy grin. "You work for UNIT, who think they can hide everything in the open. I saw your work this afternoon. It was a good job."

"I saw you, too," said Romana, "coming in to scavenge the wreckage."

"Salvage," he corrected. "We were retrieving valuable alien technology for study. Or does UNIT want it for themselves?"

"Oh no. We have no use for it."

"Good." He waved at a passing waiter; his obvious disinclination to stop for him was tempered by the force of Jack Harkness's charm. "Can I get a dry martini? And for my friend," he looked at Romana, eyebrows raised.

"Orange juice, please."

"Healthy living?" he asked when the waiter was gone.

"I like it."

"And how do you like Cardiff?"

"Between the aliens and the paperwork, I've hardly seen it. And you?" She tilted her head, watching him closely. "You're obviously not from around here."

"America, originally. But that was a long time ago."

"Really?" said Romana, and it was a struggle not to smile. "I would have guessed it was about three thousand years into the future. That's just a rough estimate, of course. But when I said you weren't from around here, I meant in the temporal sense."

All of Harkness's charm had melted away before she finished speaking. Their drinks arrived, and he plainly welcomed the excuse to turn his mind elsewhere for a moment. But this time, the charm he directed at the waiter was automatic and empty.

"Who are you?" he demanded when they were alone again.

"My name is Romana," she said, sipping at her orange juice. It was weak and far from fresh.

"And what do you know about the fifty-first century?" He gave her a frankly appraising look. "You don't strike me as the Time Agent type. Freelance?"

"I don't represent any temporal authorities."

"Maybe not officially."

"I work for UNIT. I'm a civilian advisor." She leaned back and smiled. "You can ask them, if you like. They have quite a detailed biography, I believe."

"Is any of it true?"

"I don't know. I keep meaning to read it, but I never seem to have time."

He threw his head back and laughed, drained his glass and stood up. "Come on," he said. "Let's take a walk."

She permitted him to pull her to her feet. He paid for their drinks. The name on the credit card wasn't the one he had given her, but then, there were no official documents on Earth that carried her own true name.

There was a cool breeze blowing outside. Jack led her towards Cardiff Bay, hands in his pockets, head down. He stopped outside the Millennium Centre. "So," he said, "did he send you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Doctor."

"I'm not authorised to discuss that individual," she said, keeping her voice casual.

"Bullshit." Jack moved towards her, and instinctively, Romana stepped back. "You know where I'm from, and there is _no one_ in this time who would have that information if he hadn't shared it."

"Really? I'm afraid it's obvious to anyone who knows their history." She attempted to laugh. "I mean, the average twenty-first century human wouldn't recognise a temporal coupler on sight, let alone know enough to find the power cells amidst a heap of wreckage."

"Fair enough," Jack said. "But there's one other thing that ties you to the Doctor."

"And what's that?"

His smile held a universe of insinuations. "You're wearing his jacket."

For a moment she just stared at him, and then she started to laugh.

"All right," she conceded. "All right. Hidden in the open, just as you said. How foolish of me." She became serious again, and this time, when she stepped forward, it was he who moved back. "Why would he send me to you? Why are you here?"

"He left me behind."

"He does that."

"Did he send you?" His voice held hope, rather than fear.

"Do you believe in coincidence?" she asked.

"Not usually."

"That's a pity." Romana pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. "I'm a civilian advisor to UNIT. I used to travel with the Doctor. That's all."

Jack walked away, sat down on a bench. After a moment, she followed.

"I was dead," he said eventually. "Looking into a Dalek eyestalk, knowing it was coming."

"Certain that this time there'd be no impossible escape, and even if you live a little longer – there's no such thing as Dalek mercy." Romana felt Jack's eyes on her as she spoke. She watched the light reflect off the fountain and didn't look at him.

"Yeah. And I died – I remember it. And I remember not dying. It was like being touched by--" He hesitated.

"A god?"

"No. Time."

"On Gallifrey," said Romana before she could stop herself, "we never bothered much with the distinction."

Now she did meet his eyes, and they were – not understanding, because no human could truly understand, but he recognised her for what she was, and what she meant.

"On Earth," he said, "they used to believe that Time ate his children."

"And now you're alive and the Daleks are--"

"Gone. Along with the Doctor, and Rose, and everything else. So I came back here, because if he's alive, he'll have to come back one day."

"And in the meantime," said Romana, "you're building an insurance policy."

Jack said nothing.

"If Torchwood found out you could give them time travel technology – well, I suppose you know better than I what would happen."

"I could take you in for interrogation. Non-humans have no rights here."

"You could," Romana agreed, "but you won't. Humans in your century reserved their atrocities for each other. And even if you did – well, I'm a terribly valuable asset to UNIT." She smiled. "I've put a lot of thought into this, you know."

"I doubt there's much you do carelessly." His sidelong look was admiring, but the automatic charm of earlier had not reappeared. "Aside from forgetting whose clothes you're wearing."

"No. I try to be careful."

"He doesn't."

"I know. I – he'll get himself killed again one of these days. Or someone else."

"Already has." Jack's tone was light.

Romana stood up. "I could tell him where you are," she offered. "If you want. He does love to swoop in and rescue people."

Jack laughed. "Do I look like I need rescuing? He'll come in his own time. And if he doesn't – I've got my own plans. I don't need him."

"No. I know." Romana turned back to look at the fountain again. "Neither do I."

"Good."

When Romana turned around again, he was standing up.

"And if you ever needed – help," she added, "I have some experience in building time ships."

"You need a vacation?" He was terribly close to her now, and although part of her mind was thinking it was typical for humans to reduce everything to biology, another part welcomed the proximity.

"Perhaps I've been on Earth too long."

"Would UNIT give you time off? You being such a valuable asset and all..."

"I think I could make the time." She hadn't moved away. "But should I trust you?"

"I wouldn't. But I bet you can take care of yourself."

"Always." She tilted her head up at him. "But can you get away from Torchwood?"

"They won't know where to start looking." His confidence was both misplaced and charming. That was another thing about humans. "Can I call you?" he asked.

"Certainly. Provided you can keep it from your employers. I don't care to meet them." She didn't bother giving him any numbers, because if he was clever enough, he could find her himself, and if he couldn't, then he wasn't worth going on with. But she found herself hoping he would.

His hands were on her arms; she wasn't sure if he was seeking the warmth of another person or simply tactile contact with something that had once belonged to the Doctor.

She hardly even had to move to kiss him, and it was all the sweeter because he wasn't expecting it. She didn't think she'd be able to take him unawares again.

Walking away – hands in her pockets and an absent smile on her face – she heard him call, "A UNIT agent and a Torchwood operative walk into a bar."

She laughed and swung around.

"And the bartender says--"

"--What is this, some kind of joke?"

 

end


End file.
